


Three Times Alfie Was Just Like His Dad

by iamtheenemy (Steph)



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 12:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17142038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph/pseuds/iamtheenemy
Summary: Exactly what is says on the tin!





	Three Times Alfie Was Just Like His Dad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Philipa_Moss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philipa_Moss/gifts).



> Philipa_Moss, I hope you enjoy this little look into Alfie's future. Have a great Yuletide!

**Age 5**

 

Stuart and Vince were back in Manchester visiting after a three month long trip to New Zealand. Stuart said it was all part of his plan to experience the nightlife on every continent, but Romey knew it was because Vince wanted to go on some _Lord of the Rings_ movie tour. She didn’t say a word and let him keep his secrets.

She took Alfie and met them at a new cafe that had taken up residence where Via Fossa used to be.

“It’s a bit surreal,” Vince commented, gazing around at the new decor. The theme of the cafe was American Western, so there were cowboy hats and horses all everywhere. “I wish we could have given it a proper goodbye before it closed. Copped off one last time. In fact, I think Stuart actually did cop off right where we’re sitting now.”

“I’ve fucked all over this building,” Stuart responded.

Romey made a face. “Disgusting, I’m trying to eat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do married lesbians not talk about fucking anymore?” Stuart asked.

“Not fucking men they don’t. And not in front of their five-year-old children.”

She gestured at Alfie, who was sitting beside her in the booth and still refusing to eat his broccoli. When he saw that their attention was on him again, he began to pout.

“Stop it,” Romey said.

“I don’t want broccoli! I want chips!” he wailed for the tenth time.

“You’ll get more chips when you eat your veg,” Romey repeated. “Come on, look. This one’s little.” She pushed the smallest floret of broccoli towards him. He pushed it away and crossed his arms in a huff.

Romey pointed at Stuart. “Your son,” she said.

“How he behaves is none of my doing. You’re the one raising him,” Stuart responded.

“Uncle Vince,” Alfie snuffled, clearly identifying the softest touch. His eyes filled with crocodile tears and his bottom lip quivered. “Uncle Vince, chips.”

Vince tried to look stern and said, “Listen to your mother, Alfie.”

He started crying in earnest then. Romey rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t fast enough to stop Vince from sliding one of his chips across the table to him.

“Vince!” she said as Alfie chewed happily, all traces of tears mysteriously vanished.

“After that, you eat your broccoli,” Vince said, belatedly trying to show some discipline, and then said helplessly, “He was crying, Romey.”

Romey raised her eyebrows at Stuart, who wasn’t bothering to hide his smirk. “Definitely your son.”

 

* * *

 

** Age 15 **

 

“What have you done?” Lisa demanded when she and Romey entered the headmaster’s office. They’d been called in at noon on a Tuesday because Alfie was caught fighting in the cafeteria.

Her son had a swollen lip, a black eye, and a sullen, defiant expression on his face. Next to him sat his best mate, Caroline, with a bandage wrapped around her hand.

“Are you ok, love?” Lisa asked Caroline.

“Oh what, you ask _her_ if _she’s_ ok?” Alfie said.

Lisa pointed a warning finger in his face and responded, “Because whatever happened is something you dragged her into. You think I don’t know my own son?” She bent down and looked at her hand. “Is it broken?”

“No,” Caroline said, “just swollen from getting a good punch in.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “You two will be the death of me.”

Alfie crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at his feet. Lisa looked at Romey, who was watching Alfie with an expression of frustration and concern. Their son was mischievous and always up for a bit of trouble, yes, but he very rarely got into physical fights.

“Would someone please tell us what’s going on?” Lisa asked.

“Ms. Sullivan, Ms. Levene, if you could have a seat,” Headmaster Bennett said, indicating the empty chairs by his desk. “There was a bit of an altercation today during lunch between these two and several of the older boys.”

“I can see that,” Romey answered as they took their seats. “What I don’t know is why.”

“Lewis Mulholland is a right twat, that’s why,” Alfie said.

“Alfred!” Romey chided. “Watch your language.”

“It’s true though,” Caroline chimed in. “He called you two dykes and said his mum would phone child protection to get him taken away from you.”

Lisa’s eyes widened and she heard Romey take a startled breath beside her. “What?” Lisa asked.

She looked to Alfie who just slid further down in his seat. She turned instead to the headmaster, but even he seemed surprised.

“This is the first I’m hearing of this,” he admitted.

“Him and Frankie Redmond and Len Travers have been talking that shite all year now,” Caroline said.

“What was I supposed to do? Nothing?” Alfie asked.

“You’re supposed to tell a teacher!” Romey said. “They’re the ones who can help.”

Alfie scoffed. “Teachers are useless.”

“For god’s sake, Alfie,” Lisa exclaimed, exasperated.

“I’m afraid the punishment for fighting is two days’ suspension,” Headmaster Bennett said.

“I don’t care,” Alfie retorted.

Lisa shut her eyes and prayed for strength. Just like his father sometimes, that boy. When she opened her eyes, she straightened in her chair and put on her solicitor face.

“That’s fair,” she replied brusquely. “But now we need to discuss the matter of what you’re going to do about these boys who have been harassing our son.”

 

* * *

 

**Age 20**

 

It was her son’s 50th birthday. Hazel was _old_ , she could admit it -- but only to herself. She still dressed as fabulously as she ever did, and if someone wanted to tell her that a 65-year-old woman shouldn’t wear fishnet stockings, they could go hang.

The usual suspects were all gathered at New York, New York celebrating. Hazel was sat at a table nursing a g&t and longing for the days when she was allowed to smoke inside. She’d pop out the back for a cig after she finished her drink.

The DJ was playing some terrible song that Hazel had never heard before -- she didn’t know any of the music they played nowadays -- when Vince joined her, sweat beading on his temple.

“Not dancing?” he asked.

“I will in a bit,” she said. “Just watching right now.”

She tilted her head left to indicate further down the dance floor where little Alfie, now past his 20th birthday -- she was _old_ \-- had ingratiated himself into a bachelorette party full of straight women who were probably there for the drag show scheduled later that night.

The years had helped Alfie grow nicely into his features: Stuart’s thick, curly black hair mixed with Romey’s grey eyes, and broad shoulders that were all his own.

Vince followed her line of sight to where Alfie was dancing with two women at once and chuckled. “Like father, like son.”

“You don’t say,” Hazel answered and cocked her head the other way to where Alfie’s friend Caroline was standing alone against the wall, clearly upset.

Vince pinched her drink to take a sip from it and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She scoffed. “I bet you don’t. Those Jones men, leaving a trail of tears and broken hearts wherever they go.”

“Aye. But sometimes they stop to clean up the mess,” Vince said. With a smirk and a raise of his eyebrow, he indicated Stuart joining his son amidst the scrum of women.

Stuart said something that caused the women to laugh -- just as calculatingly charming as ever, that one -- before wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders and whispering in his ear. Alfie turned to Caroline, who was studiously looking away from that side of the room and stirring the drink in her hand. He began across the dance floor to her.

Stuart left him to it. When he saw Hazel and Vince watching him, he made his way over to their table.

“Not a word from either of you,” he said sternly. “Come on, birthday boy. Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“Just a quick breather,” Vince said as Stuart grabbed him by the belt loop and pulled him out of his seat. “You coming, mum?”

Hazel threw back the rest of her drink and slapped a hand on the table. “Lead the way.”

At the other end of the room, Alfie was coaxing his friend away from the wall as well, his arm around her waist. Hazel could see the corners of her mouth turned up in a small smile.

Like father, like son, indeed.


End file.
